I turn my gaze up to hunt for him too, but through our bond, I can already tell that it’s no use to look. In the time it took me to save Caitoman’s life, Red has long vanished.

Do I pursue him? I ask Constantine through our link.

When Constantine answers, his tone is bitter. No, he answers. I want you here. And I realize it’s because he’s not sure whether other invisible rebels are waiting to attack. In case there is a surprise we’re not prepared for, I need to stay here to protect the Premier and his brother.

My gaze returns to Caitoman, who’s still on one knee as he catches his breath. There are soldiers running all around me, dragging my friends up as they tie their hands, their figures shrouded in the train’s steam and smoke that coil along the ground. But to me, the world feels slow and silent.

I am a traitor. I am a destroyer. I am the reason my friends—and my mother—will die. The guilt floods me until I can barely stand.

How had I linked with Red in my dreams? I’d worked so hard to build a shell around myself for all these months! I’d forced my emotions down, closing them off to protect us all. How had I broken my promise to myself, to keep my feelings in check to guard my loved ones from Constantine’s wrath?

Sleep. Sleep is what betrayed me.

In my dreams, I have less control. I can sense it when I wake, fighting to open my eyes and build my walls up once more. My broken heart must leak through the stone of my restraint when I’m unconscious. Does my link to Red strengthen in response during those hours, connecting me to him against my will?

Is that what had happened?

Constantine had forced everything out of me once he was aware of the extent of our linking, on pain of my mother’s life.

It’d gotten my friends captured. It’d almost gotten Red.

Even though I can sense the low pulse of Red’s heartbeat, everything in me trembles as if I had ended his life. I could have, in that moment. If Constantine had ordered me to ignore Caitoman and kill Red, I would’ve had no choice but to do it.

What if he had sensed the fraction of a second I’d given Red to escape?

The thought leaves me weak with fear. Nevertheless, I force myself to clench my fists instead, opening and closing them in my steady exercise.

My mother, I think, reminding myself. My mother. My mother.

So when Constantine calls me back to his side, I force myself to go to him. I force myself to bow my head in obedience when he praises me for what I’ve done. I force myself to watch as Constantine turns his attention to the captured Strikers. My friends.

He doesn’t order their deaths. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified by that. They’re instead bound with rope and chain, added to the prisoners that will head to Cardinia. I search each of their faces. Tomm and Pira. Adena. Aramin.